Past To Present
by Dragon Queen3
Summary: Cathryn Davis visits France with a few college friends. While taking a tour of the Opera House, there are a few discoveries from the past and present. Is she really Cathryn Davis, or the incarnation of someone with the same initials?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, Kay, Leroux, and Webber have the claims to them. If I did, I wouldn't be putting a story up on here, would I?  
  
A/N: This is my first shot at a POTO story, so I would be grateful if the only criticism I get is constructive. Mainly this story is in the year 2002, about an American college girl (Cathryn Davis) who visits France on vacation with a few friends. While they're taking the tour of the Opera House one day, Cathryn disappears down one of Erik's famous trapdoors and meets the phantom himself. But is Cathryn really Cathryn Davis, or the incarnation of someone with the same initials?  
  
  
  
"This feels weird," Jack said, peering out the taxi's window at the streets of Paris. "I keep wanting to shout 'Look out for the cars!' but its normal over here to drive on the left side."  
  
"I know what you mean," Lori said, her head resting on Jack's shoulder. Cathryn and Ryan nodded in agreement, both trying not to look too embarrassed. With the taxi being so small and the driver adamantly refusing to let one of the four college students sit up front, Cathryn was stuck sitting on Ryan's lap. At least it's not as bumpy as the ride could have been if I sat in the seat! Cathryn thought to herself.  
  
Cathryn Davis was a young, headstrong girl at the age of 24, with long blond curls, ice blue eyes, and a smile that could melt any man's heart. Cathryn was currently majoring in Psychology, with acting as her minor. She had a good speaking voice, yes (her father often said when she spoke she sounded like an angel), but she couldn't sing a note on key to save her life. That's why she chose acting as her minor instead of her major.  
  
The taxi finally reached the Opera House, and they all piled out of the car. Ryan paid the driver, and everyone headed in. They arrived not a moment too late; the tour guide was just gathering everyone together. The quartet joined in at the back of the group, adjusting their eyes to the dim interior of the quiet Opera House.  
  
"Andrew, I don't care if Michael Crawford wants a free front row seat, sell it to him at regular price!"  
  
"But Fritz, he says he'll come perform The Phantom of the Opera here again if we do!"  
  
"Andrew, Andrew, Andrew, you must understand: we cannot give free seats out to anyone, no matter what their social status, wealth, or power! It's our policy here!"  
  
"But, but-"  
  
"No, Andrew, we are not permitted! That's final!"  
  
A balding, pudgy man with a mustache came storming out of a door with "Managers" embossed into the wood. He looked on the verge of apoplexy. The door opened and a tall, wiry blond young man came hurrying out behind him. There seemed to be an incurable twitch about his left eye.  
  
"But Fritz! Won't you even consider it?!" the wiry man called after his fellow manager. Not receiving an answer, he took off in the direction Fritz left.  
  
The Opera House became quiet once again.  
  
"Anyways," the tour guide said, a startled look on her aged features. She began rambling off about the architecture, while Cathryn let her mind wander. She hadn't wanted to come to the Opera House in the first place, but her friends finally nagged her into coming. Glancing around, she looked at the intricate details of the décor. A surprisingly strong sense of déjà vu came over her. Puzzled but not alarmed, she followed the group along.  
  
She fell farther and farther behind, the sense that she had been here before growing stronger by the minute. Finally stopping, she leaned up against a wall, trying to sort her thoughts out. There was no reason for her to have déjà vu; she had never been to France in her life. Perplexed, she stamped her foot on the floor, which had fallen asleep while she stood. There was a slight creak, and the floor dropped out from beneath her feet. She was too startled to make any noise, and the trapdoor snapped shut again, leaving no trace that it was there. 


	2. An Encounter With The Past

Disclaimer: I own nothing-nothing, I say!  
  
A/N: This is kind of a strange story. It has a little supernatural twist to it. R/R, please!  
  
  
"AAAHHHCCCHHHOOOOO!" She sat there, listening to the echo of her sneeze bounce off the walls of the passage. Or so she thought it was a passage, but she couldn't be sure. Groping along the dusty floor, she managed to wrap her hand around the handle of her purse. Her intentions were to get the emergency flashlight she kept in it.  
  
Unfortunately, the purse only made it a few inches before coming to a sudden halt.  
  
Cathryn gave it a few tugs, but it wouldn't budge. It was like something extremely heavy was placed upon it. Or someone was standing on it. Of course, this last thought never occurred to her.  
  
Muttering a few choice words, she yanked harder for a few moments. The purse moved a whole millimeter. Cathryn let her arms drop, gasping for breath.  
  
"Damn purse..." she whispered, her hand sliding up the handle to reach the body of the bag. Her hand came upon polished leather. Puzzled, she moved her hand up and her fingertips brushed lightly against an almost silky fabric. It was warm. Swallowing, she suddenly felt a quiet, brooding presence tower over her crouched figure.  
  
A soft chuckle floated through the darkness, making her heart beat at a more panicked pace.  
  
Then she was stood up, swung around, a hand placed firmly over her mouth, lifted off the ground by a strong arm, and carried off. She struggled, but soon found it useless. Cathryn was bounced around for a few moments, then unceremoniously dumped on the floor. Coughing, she spun around to face the mysterious man who had carried her off. He was no where to be seen.  
  
Cathryn looked around for a few moments, but she saw no movements in the shadows. The gentle lapping of the waters on the shore of an underground lake calmed her wildly racing mind. Only then did she notice the stabbing pain in her left wrist, which she quickly assessed was broken. It must have snapped when she landed on it after falling through the trapdoor. Not knowing anything better to do, she walked to the edge of the lake and slipped her wrist beneath the surface. A chill went up her spine from the icy temperature.  
  
"You should get that checked out."  
  
Gasping, she twisted around to look behind her, refusing to take the just barely throbbing wrist out of the lake. A shadow was standing not three feet away. How he had gotten so close without her knowing was beyond her. A gloved hand reached in her direction, a simple gesture of kindness. Warily, she slipped her small hand into his.  
  
Again, there was an over whelming sense of déjà vu.  
  
His grip was gentle, and he helped her up from the edge of the glassy lake. He led her to a sheer wall of rock, then reached up and flipped an invisible switch. The wall moved aside, revealing a short tunnel and a wooden door. Opening the door, she was led into a dark room. Another passage? She thought. That idea went out the window after a few candles were lit, revealing an ornately decorated room. The odd man went over to a hearth and stoked the dying embers back to life. Soon the room was completely lit, revealing every corner.  
  
"Alright, why don't you sit d-" he said, turning around. He stopped short when he saw her. It was her. She was back, just like the old witch had said she would.  
  
---  
  
(Erik)  
  
He couldn't believe his eyes. The hair, the eyes, the face; it was all her. The witch hadn't lied.  
  
A few weeks after Christine left, he had journeyed to Egypt to let the events at the Opera House settle down. While visiting, an old witch had called to him from the shadows of her tent in the market.  
  
~Flashback~  
  
The lone figure strode through the market, a black cloak wrapped around himself, keeping the sun at bay. He earned a few odd glances from the Egyptians passing by, but went otherwise unnoticed. That was how he preferred it. Striding past a shadowed tent-which he had learned was the Seer and Witch-he heard a soft melodic voice call to him.  
  
"Come, Erik."  
  
Stopping short, he glanced back, trying to pierce the dim interior of the tent. The thing that had startled him most was the heavily accented French he had heard. Warily Erik walked into the tent. A mixture of perfumed oils stung his nose, making his eyes water.  
  
"Sit," a lilting voice said. Only then did he notice the young woman seated at a small table in the middle of the tent. Slowly Erik sat on the pile of cushions opposite the Seer. Her skin was a hazelnut color, her eyes a blazing green. They were outlined in heavy make up, and her was hair tied up in many braids. The bangles adorning her wrists made a light tinkling when she set her hands on the table. He noticed she was scantily clad, and he averted his eyes to keep from staring.  
  
"Your only true love has left, am I correct? Her name was...Christine?"  
  
He peered at the woman, then gave a barely perceptible nod.  
  
She wrapped her hands around a ruby sphere and blew into it. A light flared to life deep within the core of the gem. She studied it for a few moments, turning it over and around in her slender hands.  
  
"Her heart was stolen away from you by a person of high rank...a boy named Raoul?"  
  
Disbelief showed in his mismatched eyes. She gave a soft laugh.  
  
"She was almost yours, before he came along. They knew each other from childhood...he rescued her scarf from the sea. Her nickname was Little Lottie..."  
  
She pondered over the stone for a few more moments, the set the stone on the table between them. Leaning on the table, she studied him. He glanced quickly away when he saw her full bosom. But a smile graced her perfect lips when she saw a few of his sneaky glances.  
  
"How about I make a deal with you. I give you immortality to wait for your reincarnated Christine, in return for a service to me," she said, an idea coming to her cunning mind.  
  
"What?" he asked eagerly, his only wish to be with Christine-whether it be in the present or the future.  
  
She knew that she was physically desired by him-she saw it when he first walked in. The men of the village knew of what her occupation was, and that every descendant of hers would be granted with the same gifts she possessed. They didn't want their bloodline tainted by evil. She was in no part evil, only misunderstood. Her entire family had the gift of seeing things, and the art of witchcraft was taught to every member of her bloodline. Alas, the people of the village had learned of this, and refused to let anyone create the next Seer. The only thing she wanted was for her bloodline to continue. That was to be his payment to her for placing an enchantment on him.  
  
Standing up, she went and untied the knot holding the flap for the entryway of her tent. The flap fell, enshrouding everything in darkness. Rubbing the ruby and blowing on its surface, a soft red light chased away the shadows. Crouching next to the mysterious Erik, she whispered something in his ear.  
  
Shaking his head in disgust, he looked at the Seer. He found his eyes roving over her tantalizing body, and finally gave into temptation. He slowly nodded, sealing their agreement.  
  
~End Flashback~  
  
His eyes came back into focus, and found the girl staring at him with an odd look in her eyes. He motioned her to sit on the divan by the fireside.  
  
"Let me look at that wrist," he said, moving to his room to get the bag that contained all of his healing supplies. 


End file.
